


The Other Half

by methlabs



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugs, Enemies to Lovers, Establishing a Criminal Enterprise, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Grand Theft Auto Online, Guns, Multi, Organized Crime, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Pansexual Character, Rating subject to change, Slow Build, Street Racing, Unhealthy Relationships, more like Business Rivals to Dubiously Friendly Neighbours to Lovers, tags to be added as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methlabs/pseuds/methlabs
Summary: Yankee is an ambitious drug runner starting anew in Sandy Shores, but her growing success soon attracts the attention of a local business rival. This time, she refuses to pack up and leave.Nora de Castro is the daughter of one of Los Santos' most notorious crime bosses. Her father has assured that she wants for nothing, minus the liberty to pursue what she idealises as a thrilling life of crime....This story follows the lives of two women trying to make it in San Andreas' vast crime world, and the crossing of their paths with some familiar players.
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Original Female Character(s), Trevor Philips/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 0.0 - Prologue (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new player arrives in Sandy Shores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this story has been in the works for a long time, and i've finally decided it's time to actually write it. if i stick to what i have planned, it should be rather long. on that note, this is my first serious multi-chapter fic so any tips on pacing are appreciated! i will be updating periodically since as of writing this i currently have no other obligations. and don't worry, the boys will be here soon. enjoy!

The residents of Sandy Shores who were unfortunate enough to be outside of their homes just after noon on a Wednesday looked on with disdain as the dark blue Duneloader pulled into the long-abandoned driveway of 140 Zancudo Avenue. Its bed bowed under carelessly packed furniture, the evidence of a hasty relocation. Under its immense, mud-caked tires, the sunbaked dirt cracked and swirled into dust, heralding the arrival of the property’s new owner. The few residents whose interest the arrival had not yet lost looked on as they waited for the driver to emerge. With a solid _clack,_ the driver’s side door opened, and a blonde, Hispanic-looking woman hopped out onto the ground. At the revelation of the stranger’s appearance, all remaining neighbours soon lost interest and returned to whatever miserable rituals they went about just after noon on a Wednesday (unless, of course, their ritual was porch-sitting, in which case they were a captive audience). The newcomer took a long drag from her cigarette as she surveyed the house and its surroundings, her expression far too gleeful for someone moving to Sandy Shores that the porch-dweller across the road concluded that she was decidedly _on some shit_. He watched the stranger as she did a single loop around the house, inspecting the crude window shutters and glancing over the furniture that had been dumped in the yard since the previous owner left. The stranger smiled again as she stopped next to the Duneloader, taking another drag from her cigarette before snuffing it under her boot.

“Yeah,” she said to herself. “Yeah, this’ll do fuckin nicely.”


	2. Chapter 0.5 - Prologue (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nora contends with her father's protectiveness.

The lights from the traffic shone more brightly with the onset of dusk, Nora noted, as she gazed down into the city below. Against the purple of the sky, red and white specks blurred together into the distance, a telltale sign of the hell that was Los Santos peak hour beginning to take shape. She pulled her dressing gown closer around herself as she pressed her forehead against the glass, letting the cool air from the AC rush over her head and down the back of her neck. Her eyes began to droop shut but she started when she heard the chopping of helicopter blades approaching the roof of the tower, and rushed to swap her gown for a decent outfit.

...

“I’m telling you, Matteo, that fuckhead Madrazo wouldn’t know a decent bottle of white if it was stuck up his ass.”

“I thought the meeting went well--”

“It did. Alls I’m saying is that Madrazo has fucking garbage taste in wine.” Her father’s rough Italian accent reverberated through the apartment, directing her to its source as she made her way to greet him. She found him in the sitting room outside his office, shrugging off his tuxedo and tossing it to his bodyguard who looked thoroughly worn out.

“Daddy, welcome home.” Nora announced her presence with a smile, interrupting her father’s usual lineup of prepared complaints that seemed to surface whenever he returned from lunch with a business partner.

“ _Ciao, cucciola_.” Oliver reached for his daughter, kissing both of her cheeks before pulling away, his hands still on her shoulders. He felt her forehead. “How is your headache? You shouldn’t have gotten up for me, _amore_. You should be resting.”

“I’m alright now,” Nora smiled lopsidedly, hoping that he wouldn’t notice despite the throbbing in her temples. At the very least, she needed to _look_ like she was in a decent state before her request, lest he simply dismiss her as delirious with fever. “I slept for a while then Gloria brought me tea.”

“Good, good.” Oliver smiled in turn and patted her cheek before continuing into his office. She followed close after, not willing to be dismissed so easily.

Nora loitered in the entryway to the lavish room, trying to look just restless enough that her father would take notice and ask what was troubling her. While he spoke to Matteo, she busied herself appraising the room’s decor as she had done countless times before: mahogany wainscoting topped with red fleur-de-lis wallpaper? Terribly garish. Potted tree fern growing in the far corner? Overrated, overused, and underwatered. Ancient walnut grandfather clock? Well, she could live with it. But only because she was raised to appreciate genuine antiques.

Only after waving Matteo away did Oliver notice Nora had followed him into his office. “Did you need something else, _cucciola?_ ”

She hesitated a moment, but forced herself forward and to his side, rather than across the immense desk from him. “Daddy, I wanted to ask you something.”

Oliver’s face showed only distaste as he visibly predicted her query. She knew he could tell from her tone, and it was definitely a sore topic with him. Still, he said nothing, so she decided to push.

“Look, I know I’ve asked before, but could you _please_ let me go out with Matteo and Henry and all them on a job. Just _one_ job, so I can prove myself, you know?”

Oliver’s expression turned to one of weariness as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “God fuckin’ damn it, Nora, we’ve already talked about this. You don’t have anything to prove.”

She felt a pang of something in her chest at his phrasing but continued anyway. “But I do!” She got down on her knees and took his right hand in both of hers, pleading.

Oliver only shook his head mournfully, his eyes tightly shut as if he were in pain. “No, Nora. You don’t have to do that. Don’t fuckin’ do that.”

“How am I supposed to run this business when you’re gone if I don’t know how things work, inside and out? I’m twenty-five for fuck’s sake! And apparently I need to show I’m _capable_ of being independent of you!”

“Stop it, Nora.”

She raised her voice, suddenly emboldened. “I’ll just be doing the same shit you did to _make_ this business--”

She jumped as her father yanked his hand from her grasp, slamming his fist on the table. “Listen to me,” The anger seeping into his voice made Nora’s heart feel like it was about to burst out of her chest, although his volume remained low. “ _I_ did the dirty work all those years ago so you could have this fuckin’ life. _I_ went through all that trouble so that you and your mother could live comfortably, and now that your mother is gone, it all goes to you. _I_ did all the low-level shit that you seem to think I’m holding from you like some sorta fuckin’ _privilege_ so that _you_ wouldn’t have to. You will not bring this up again. _Capiche?_ ”

Nora could feel the venom behind his deliberate final word and she knew that if she tried to speak her voice would waver terribly. Her head pounded even worse than before and it was all she could do to nod as she stood shakily and quickly made her way back to her bedroom, pushing her way past Matteo and not sparing a second glance at her father.


	3. Chapter 1.0 - Enter the Big Bad Wolf / Burning Rubber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yankee's business is beginning to take off in Sandy Shores. Meanwhile, Nora attends a street race at Vespucci beach.
> 
> Featuring soupmetaphors' OC Friday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for drugs and drug use

“Jesus fuckin’ _Christ,_ man, that is pure as _shit._ ” The customer coughed sharply as she passed the glass flute back to the other woman, shaking her head in amazement. “You sure you ain’t puttin’ rocket fuel in this...?” 

“Oh, I’m sure. Oversaw this batch myself.” the blonde replied, smiling as she replaced the crystals in the end of the pipe before offering it back to the considerably skinnier woman. She visibly shook with her refusal.

“Fuck that, I don’t wanna tweak out here, man...” She fumbled around in her pockets desperately before producing a crumpled wad of bills. “What--ah, what’s two ounces? Two k? Two ‘n’ a half?”

Something in the dealer’s grin was predatory as she rested a reassuring hand on her patron’s shoulder. The latter jumped slightly but she kept on. “For you, my friend? Nine hundred.”

“You’re fuckin’ with me. Nobody makes crank that pure and sells an _ounce_ for less than a thousand… Man, you gotta be a fuckin’ cop or some shit!”

“Hey, that’s my final offer, bud.” She shrugged nonchalantly, looking more disinterested than offended. “Never met someone who didn’t appreciate such a generous discount before.”

The customer glanced around anxiously, looking as if she expected Steve Haines himself to burst around the corner of the decrepit motel with a full camera crew the moment the deal was sealed. She stared at the two tiny bags of crystals that the dealer had produced from her vest, seemingly contemplating for a moment before hurriedly shoving the stack of notes into her free hand. The dealer smiled.

“‘Atta girl,” she said, half-smug and half-reassuring as she counted out the notes, all fifties, taking her share and passing the rest back to her new customer along with the two tiny plastic bags in an awkward handshake. “Pleasure doing business with you. Have fun, stay safe, et cetera.” She began to walk away when the other woman raised her voice.

“Wait, how--how do I get in contact with you?” The desperation in her voice was evident. _Bingo._

“Slipped you a little paper with my business number,” the dealer replied before turning on her heel to add with another wolfish grin; “Ask for Yankee. And do tell your friends about me.”

…

The dilapidated shack was located just outside of town, on the outskirts of the Senora National Park; the perfect balance of cheap and inconspicuous, a description also befitting its owner. Yankee’s truck rolled up on the side of the shack and she jumped out, one of her employees walking over to meet her.

“Hola, Pablo. Give me good news.” she said, continuing towards the lab.

“Yield is definitely up this batch, boss. Almost four hundred grams per station this time. I don’t know where you learned that aluminium trick, but I’m sure as hell glad to not be working with bombs anymore.”

Yankee looked extremely pleased with herself, beaming as she patted the shorter man on the back. “Oh, Pablo. You know that on top of everything, employee safety is my number-one priority.”

“Speaking of, some of the guys are complaining about the ventilation inside, and I think--”

Yankee immediately stopped in her tracks, rounding on Pablo and gripping his shoulder so tight he winced. She leaned down close to his face, her smile suddenly malicious. “ _I_ think you should tell them to open a fucking window or two. Unless you were planning to climb onto that grill you call a roof and install a fucking vent yourself.”

Pablo simply nodded obediently and Yankee’s smile turned almost serene as she backed off and entered the lab, him trailing behind like a puppy that had just been disciplined.

“Daddy’s home,” Yankee made herself known to the rest of her few employees, who briefly looked up from their stations, a couple stuck between smiling sheepishly behind their masks and going right back to work. She took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, relishing the overpowering smell of ammonia as Pablo concernedly tried to hand her a mask, which she ignored.

“Now, I hear you kids have been doing _exceptional_ work for our little family,” she said as she began to pace around the lab, glancing over the workers’ shoulders at each table stacked with various glassware and other apparatuses. As she finished her first circuit, she reached into the pocket of her denim vest and produced a wad of cash from the day’s earnings. She brought it to her nose and flicked through the notes with her thumb, taking in the scent of a hard day’s dealing. That caught everyone’s attention, goggled eyes glancing up at their boss while trying and failing to not look overeager. Yankee circled around a second time, pausing behind each cook and stuffing four fifty-dollar bills into each one’s back pocket. 

“Consider this a bonus. If y’all keep doing the work you’re doing, some of you’ll be due for a permanent pay rise. Keep that in mind.” She came to a stop next to Pablo again and handed him five, before immediately snatching back two as soon as he had them in his grip. “And you...” Yankee grinned at him dangerously. “You can consider this a deposit on that new roof vent. Expect the rest on installation.”

…

The bottle of Macbeth whiskey sat like a religious idol behind intricately carved mahogany doors, its golden contents seemingly fluorescing under the lighting obviously intended for trophies of its caliber. Matteo glanced around warily to make sure the boss hadn’t inexplicably manifested back in the office while he wasn’t looking, before turning back to the liquor cabinet and quickly retrieving a glass along with the vintage bottle. He carried them swiftly over to the desk at the other end of the room where he hesitated briefly, dusting off his suit before giddily taking a seat in the boss’ throne-like chair. He adjusted himself in the heavily cushioned seat, getting comfortable before carefully pouring himself a shot of the golden liquid. He smiled to himself, completely content as he brought the shot glass to his lips, when a voice startled him out of his little fantasy.

“Someone’s been naughty.” Nora leaned against the door to her father’s office, smirking amusedly at Matteo as he realised the situation he had put himself in and watched as his expression turned to panic.

“Nora, listen--” Matteo scrambled from the chair, almost knocking the bottle off the desk in the process.

“Take me to Vespucci and I won’t tell my father on you.”

“I… what?” He stood, trying to compose himself.

“There’s a street race by the beach tonight,” Nora pushed herself off the doorframe, hands on her hips. “We’re going.”

Of all the things Matteo had expected Nora to blackmail him for (as she inevitably would have, she was the daughter of a mob boss for God’s sake), this wasn’t one of them. He knew she was into cars, but had never considered she might actually be into racing. Smoothing over his pompadour, he weighed his options. “You know the boss is gonna kill me if he finds out I took his daughter to watch a street race, right, sweetheart?”

“I know. But he’ll be even madder if he finds out one of his best men snuck some of his twelve-year-old Macbeth and played house in his office.”

Matteo looked from Nora to the opened bottle still on the desk and back again, scratching the back of his neck and sighing defeatedly. “Fuck it. What time?”

Nora smiled, noticeably perking up at her success. “Eleven. You’ve got an hour.” she said, turning to leave with a flick of her brown ponytail. “Don’t forget to clean that glass when you’re done.”

Matteo watched her back as she sauntered out of the office, leaving the heavy doors only slightly ajar. He shook his head and huffed, frustrated at himself but honestly happy with the outcome, considering the other ways it could have played out. What was so bad about taking Nora out to watch a street race, anyway? His gaze fell on the untouched glass of whiskey still sitting on the desk and he downed it without hesitation.

…

The ride to Vespucci was uneventful, besides Matteo pulling into an Up-n-Atom drive-through for milkshakes; strawberry for him, vanilla for Nora. His turquoise Tornado convertible came to a stop at the southern end of Bay City Avenue, toward the bottom of Vespucci Beach. A number of other vehicles had already gathered next to the small parking lot nearby, several heads turning as the pair stepped out of the vehicle. A heavily tattooed Asian man swaggered over, beaming as he outstretched his arms to embrace Nora.

“Ain’t this a motherfuckin’ surprise? Hey girl,” the man said as she gave him a peck on the cheek. “Was starting to think I’d _never_ see you at one of these.”

“Happy to be here, Hao.” Nora smiled as she pulled back, and he gestured to Matteo who was watching them warily.

“So, who’s your boyfriend?”

Nora looked at Matteo slyly as his eyebrow twitched in surprise at the question. “Oh, this is Matteo. He’s my date tonight.”

“I am?” He felt a little stupid as the question left his mouth--she had to be teasing but he was still taken aback.

Nora chuckled and took him by the arm, dragging him towards the other man. “Of course, silly. Anyways, this is Hao; I met him a few months ago when I got my Monroe tricked out. He’s a hell of a mechanic.”

Hao nodded at the bigger man, giving him a once-over as they shook hands. He looked over at Nora. “High praise from you, girl. You butterin’ me up?” Nora simply shrugged, a coy smile on her face. “I also happen to dabble in racing of the questionably legal sort.” he added, turning back to Matteo.

“You don’t say?” Matteo was surprised at his candour, but their familiarity gave him the feeling that Nora had given Hao at least an inkling as to the nature of her family’s business.

“Talkin’ of races,” Hao gestured to the other cars that were either parked or idling nearby, Radio Los Santos blasting through one of their speakers. “If you’re driving, girl, you better tell us now. Though, I wouldn’t recommend racing in _that._ ”

Matteo tried his best not to look offended as Hao nodded at the vintage Declasse behind them.

“Actually, Hao sweetie, I was wondering if I could possibly tempt you to let me use your ride this time around.” Nora’s voice took on a distinctive lilt as she let go of Matteo and latched onto Hao’s arm, letting him lead her toward the other cars.

He hissed through his teeth. “Girl, I dunno. I know you’re good, but it’s gonna take a bit of convincing for me to let you drive my baby--”

“Hey, hey, hey, hold up.” Matteo cut in, rushing after the other two. “Nora, sweetheart, you never said anything about actually _racing_. We’re just here to watch, ain’t that what you said?”

Nora cocked her head at him, her tone exasperated. “Baby, you’re putting words in my mouth! Besides, our agreement still stands. I got the power to change the conditions whenever I want, and I say I’m racing. _Capiche?_ ”

Matteo frowned at her before shoving his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket to feel around for his pack of Redwoods. “God, you really are Oliver’s daughter.” he grumbled, lighting one and following the pair the rest of the way.

“Entry fee is one grand, the pot is four and a half.” Hao had barely finished the sentence before Nora produced several hundred-dollar bills from her purse, handing them to him. He took them with a smile, counting through to notice she had overpaid him. “Nah, nah, nah,” he said, handing back the excess thousand she had given him. “You lucky I’m a businessman.” But Nora shoved his own hand back against his chest.

“Consider this collateral for any damages. You get sixty percent of the winnings if I place--you know I’m good for it.”

Hao looked from her to the notes and back again, a lopsided grin on his face. “Girl, you have a great way of convincing.” He turned to the others. “A’ight we starting! Nora will be driving in my place.”

One of the guys sitting on the hood of a green Dominator laughed obnoxiously. “The fuck? Hao, that bitch oughta give good head for you to let her drive, man, fuck. Bitch even wearin’ heels ‘n’ shit.”

Nora opened her mouth to reply but Matteo stepped forward, already pulling a pistol from his shoulder holster and aiming it at the man in question. The crowd responded with surprised shouts, some of the girls looking ready to bolt. “Do you know who the _fuck_ you’re speaking to? Keep talking about her like that, motherfucker! See what happens!”

“Matt, baby, chill the fuck _out!_ ” Nora cried, rushing forward to pull his arm down as the guy who had spoken up raised his hands in the air defensively.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, man, listen to your girl. I was just playin’, you psycho.” 

“Man, if he pops you, you deserve it.” Hao shook his head at the other man, who looked at him incredulously. “You wouldn’t fuck with her if you had two fuckin’ braincells.”

Matteo lowered his pistol as Nora tried to calm him down, but he kept his glare fixed on the offending party even as he holstered it and shrugged to readjust his jacket. Hao took charge, ushering Nora and Matteo over to his car while everyone cooled off.

“Man, the fuck.” The guy sitting on the Dominator shook his head exasperatedly. “Who the fuck is she to have a mean-ass guard dog like that?”

The blonde leaning against the hood next to him frowned. “Jesus, you’re even stupider than you look. That’s Nora de Castro. You know, daughter of Oliver de Castro, only one of the biggest crime bosses in the state?”

His eyes widened considerably. “What?! Fuck, Friday, why ain’t you tell me that _before_ I made a fuckin’ fool of myself?”

She snorted at him, pushing herself off the car and adjusting her silk bomber as everyone else began to take their places at the makeshift starting line. “‘Cause you deserve it, fuckass.”

“I don’t think I have to tell you to be careful with her,” Hao said as Nora slid into the driver’s seat of his orange Penumbra. “But _please_ be fuckin’ careful with her. You been good to me, and I ain’t wanna take any more of your money than necessary, dig?”

Nora smiled up at him as she shut the door, not even bothering to remove her heeled boots. Ab-Soul started blasting through the speakers as soon as she turned the key in the ignition. “She’s in good hands, Hao. Just relax.”

It was Matteo’s turn to express his concern as he leaned into the open window on the passenger side. “You sure you wanna do this, Nora? I know you’re a good driver, but the boss’ll have both our asses if you come back with so much as a bruise.”

She rolled her eyes, an edge of annoyance to her voice when she spoke. “I _know,_ Matteo. I don’t intend to get hurt. Just fuckin’ trust me, okay?” She looked at him expectantly.

“... Okay.” He relented, leaning back out of the window and lighting another cigarette, a tired but endearing smile on his face. “I let you boss me around way too fuckin’ much.”

“Fuckin’-a.” Nora replied, before putting the car in gear and rolling up to the very back of the starting order.

Engines revved fiercely as the racers were finally lined up, all eager to start as one of the scantily clad girls took her place at the starting line, carrying a checkered flag.

“On your marks! Get set!”

Nora revved harder, the welcome sensation of adrenaline beginning to build in her veins.

“Go!”

“Fuck it,” Nora mumbled as she quickly adjusted the radio. _Alright_ by Jamiroquai came on as she threw the car into gear and floored the accelerator. “Let’s hustle.”


End file.
